Exit 17
by Calliste
Summary: The story of "the rest stop where that soda exploded on me."
1. road trip

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. Just having fun.

First, the history...

**June 1, 2008**

We were still miles from home, at least an hour, and I'd had to go to the bathroom for the last thirty minutes. I'd tried to forget about it, just put it out of my mind, but it was becoming increasingly clear I was going to have to make him pull over. "Hey," I said casually, "think we could pull over at the next rest stop?"

"Hmm?" He'd been humming along to the radio, but reached over to turn it down and glanced over at me. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I could use a pit stop," I apologized.

"Oh. Yeah, of course." He grinned wickedly. "I told you to take it easy on the iced tea, lady."

"You did," I agreed.

"Yet you got another refill and did not use the restroom before we hit the road." He clucked his tongue—_tsk, tsk—_and shook his head, tapping his fingers on the wheel.

I sighed. " 'Jim is always right and I will always listen to him about everything,' " I intoned, not for the first time.

"And don't you forget it." He nodded smugly.

I squirmed and bit my lip, feeling the beginnings of panic. "Just find an exit, please," I said curtly. _Oh my God, I'm actually going to pee my pants. This is not happening._

His smirk faded at my tone. "Yes ma'am." He cast a quick, concerned glance at me. "So, scale of one to ten, how urgent…?"

"Twenty-seven."

He glanced over at me again, and the worried crease in his forehead deepened. "Okay, there's a rest stop coming up. Two miles. Just…hold on."

"What do you think I'm doing?" I asked through gritted teeth.

He pressed his lips together and I knew he was trying not to laugh, which made me want to giggle with him and smack him at the same time. Laughing would definitely make the problem worse, though, so I glowered at him instead.

He turned his eyes back to the road, looking a little grim.

By the time he sent us careening off the exit and pulled up at the rest stop, I was in actual pain and forced to crouch a little as I ran for the bathroom in tears of mingled laughter and embarrassment. But at least I hadn't had an actual "accident." _Oh my God thank you thank you thank you._

How mortifying. He was never going to let me live this down.

He was loitering by the coolers when I went back out. "All better?" he smirked.

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Get me a water."

"Are you sure? I'd like to get back before sunset," he teased, pulling open the door and plucking a bottle of Poland Spring for me, a Coke for himself.

"And some Skittles."

"Good call." He nodded approvingly, ambling to the candy aisle. "Original or tropical?"

"Original, of course." I shook my head in feigned disappointment. "Really, Jim. Don't you know me _at all?"_

He rolled his eyes at me over his shoulder and plucked a package off the hook. "Chocolate?" He gestured at the wall of candy bars with the edge of his bag of Skittles.

"Duh." I poked him in the side and he flinched, grinning, as I reached over to pick up a Snickers. "I just want a couple bites, though. Share one with me?"

"Yes. Perfect." He bumped me gently with his hip, indicating I should go ahead of him. "Now. Are you sure you're good for the road, because, we really don't want to have to make another stop, we're only an hour from home…"

"Ha ha."

He threw me a smirk as he piled everything on the counter. "And two Powerball tickets," he added, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

"Ooh, _two?_ Will you split it with me if it's a winner?"

He gave me a stern look. "This is my retirement fund, Pam. It's not a laughing matter."

"It is if _that's _your plan."

He handed his credit card to the middle-aged lady with teased blonde hair and too-bright lipstick, nametagged ALICE, behind the counter. "I have many plans," he said cryptically.

The cashier gave him a distinctly flirtatious smile. "A young man like you shouldn't be worried about retirement," she winked.

I stared at her in astonishment, wondering if I'd suddenly become invisible.

Jim smiled back at her as he took his card back. "Never too early to look ahead," he said lightly, meeting her eyes with his most charming salesman's air. "Thank you."

"Come on back anytime." She gave him another saucy smile.

I snatched the drinks off the counter and marched out to the car, Jim right behind me. "Wait up," he called, reaching around me to open my door. "Don't rob me of my chivalry," he teased, his smile fading as he looked down into my face. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I grouched, feeling a little ridiculous. Like he was really flirting with Auntie Mame behind the counter in there. He was just being Jim, all charming and sweet. It's his nature.

He read me perfectly, of course. "Oh my God, you're jealous."

"No I'm not," I said instantly, which only made him grin wider.

"You are! How cute. I'm sorry, Pam, I can't help it if kids and old ladies love me. Animals too, you should know." He gave me one of those little half-winks and walked around to his side.

"Animals too?" I echoed as he slid into the driver's seat. "Maybe we should get a dog and test that theory."

He chuckled. "Sure, leave it with me all summer while you're off in the city." His eyes sparkled. "Hey, maybe that's not a bad idea. Keep me company on those long lonely nights without you."

"No way! If I have to be lonely, so do you."

"You're mean, Beesly." He tore open the Skittles and shook a few into his palm, then handed me the bag. "Hey, gimme my soda."

"Gimme?" I repeated. "Nice manners. What kind of example will you set for our kids?"

He tilted his head and gave me sad eyes. "Pleeeeease?"

"Sarcastic, but I'll take it." I handed him the Coke and tried not to smile too much at the look in his eyes. We'd started to talk sort of obliquely about kids and dogs and houses ever since we had that conversation a couple of weeks ago about waiting to get engaged until after my program, and it still gave me a weird, pleasantly fluttery feeling in my stomach when I thought about it. Married to Jim. Kids with Jim. A dog and a house and all of that, with Jim. It was like the last ten years of my life had been some kind of extended practice-run for this, the real thing.

"I don't know what you're talking about. That was totally sincere." He smirked at me and twisted off the cap on his Coke.

A fountain of caramel-colored bubbles exploded from the bottle and sprayed his shirt, his face, his bangs, as he cursed and frantically tried to smash the cap back on. By then half the soda was gone anyway, and he turned to me with accusing eyes, his mouth half open in outrage. "Pam!"

I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. "What?" I squeaked.

"You shook it up!" He shook his wet fingers toward me, splattering me a little.

"No way," I shook my head. "I did no such thing."

"Admit it, you shook it up." He reached over and wiped his palm on my forearm before I could squirm away.

"I swear I didn't," I promised, staring at him very sincerely so he'd know I was telling the truth. The giggles were coming on any second and then he _really _wouldn't believe me.

He regarded me sternly for a second, assessing, and then sighed, throwing his hands up helplessly. "I'm…_saturated!"_

That did it; I started giggling, and he pressed his lips together in a thin hard line for a second before a chuckle seemed to force its way out of his chest, and then we were laughing so hard we were both in tears. "Oh, you're all sticky," I gasped, fingering his soaked shirt. "Maybe Alice can help you get cleaned up…"

He reached behind his back to pull his shirt off over his head, plucking at the dampened white T-shirt he was wearing underneath with a sigh. "What, _you_ don't want to help me?" he asked with exaggerated hurt, tossing his soaked shirt into the back seat.

"Not with the laundry," I said suggestively. "Hold still." I opened up my water and picked up his shirt from the back seat, dampening a dry patch and reaching up to wipe some of the soda splatters off his face. "Want me to drive?"

"I'm wet, Pam, not paralyzed." He leaned over and kissed me. "Thanks."

"Wanna go back in and try to maybe clean up a little? The ladies' room was pretty clean."

He shook his head and started up the car. "Nah, let's just go. But you owe me."

"What for? I told you, I didn't do it. Swear to God." I held up my hand solemnly.

"I believe you. You owe me anyway. If you knew how to use the bathroom before a road trip, we wouldn't even be here." He grinned and twisted away when I went to pinch him. "Wasn't the whole point of this so we could time it? How long were we here?"

"I have no idea." I smiled.

It didn't matter. The trip was the trip; we'd be making it no matter how long it took.

--

Thanks for reading. Reviews/comments are appreciated!


	2. rain delay

**August 11, 2008**

It's been ten days since I've seen her, and I can't wait another minute.

Everything is different without Pam here. We aren't, technically speaking, living together, but my apartment feels empty all the same. I can feel her in everything—in the couch cushions, in her bath towel hanging on the rod, her scent still permeating my sheets. It makes me feel weirdly homesick in my own house. For the first time ever, I'm in absolutely no hurry to leave the office at night.

I wasn't joking; I'm pretty sure I've got an ulcer. I don't know what else it could be. It's a dull ache in my left side that sometimes graduates to a sharp stabbing pain. But I can't tell Pam about it, obviously. She doesn't need to be worrying about me. I'm supposed to be the supportive boyfriend. And I like the role, really. I just miss her more than I thought was possible. We talk and text all the time but it's not the same, it's not enough. And last weekend she had a daylong seminar and I went to Nick's soccer game and there just didn't end up being time for either of us to make the drive. She sounded so sad and disappointed when we talked on Sunday afternoon that I nearly drove down there anyway, but she has a nine o'clock class on Mondays and I'm running low on sick days.

This morning when I told her I had to go to Jake's t-ball game she just sounded guarded and resigned, and somehow that was worse. I wanted to tell her everything I was really feeling. _I hate this; I miss you; I'm proud of you , but oh, my God, I can't wait until you're home. _ I wanted to reassure her that she's always my first priority. It makes me sick that she might need that assurance.

I can't wait another minute. She's agreed to meet me for lunch, and I'm going home to get her ring and ask her. Now. Today. I wasn't planning on proposing during an impromptu lunch date in New Jersey, but when did anything with Pam ever happen like I planned?

--

Fucking rain. That and the traffic was going to make me late, and there was a tightness in my chest that was totally unwarranted—_she's not gonna leave just 'cause you're a few minutes late, quit being irrational—_but suddenly I couldn't get there fast enough.

At first I panicked because I didn't see her car, but there she was, waiting out in front, clutching her coat tightly around her. Why wasn't she inside? She looked freezing, but as I threw the car into park and got out into the rain, she was smiling, calling out to me over the storm, "Hey! This is not halfway!"

Pam tilted her head up to look at me as I trotted up to her, and she was still smiling, teasing me, going on about how I'd have to pay for lunch, but she didn't look put out at all. She was beaming, and it reminded me a little of _that_ night, when she was rocking on her heels and mocking me with that same, radiant smile on her face.

I dropped my jacket and went to one knee before I could stop myself.

Her forehead creased in confusion as she stared down at me. "What are you doing?"

I opened the ring box, and she took a half-step back with a small gasp, staring at it and then at me before uttering a shocked, "Oh my God."

I blurted out what I'd been thinking all morning. "I just… I can't wait."

And here I was on bended knee in the rain and I didn't have anything poetic or romantic or flowery at hand. As many times as I'd imagined this moment, how I'd tell her what she meant to me and how much I loved her and everything I'd do to make her happy…all I could manage was, "Pam, will you marry me?"

"Oh my God," she said again, and she was nodding and smiling so widely but not _answering_ and I had to hear her say it, to make it real, and even though it was written all over her face my heart was still in my throat when I prompted, "So…?"

She kept nodding as she said "Yes!" and her smile was so wide and happy that I had to pick her up a little when I kissed her, and then twirl her around and kiss her some more, and she was clutching at me and leaning back in to kiss me again and again until we both started laughing.

_Easy, how was that so easy?_

All these months I'd been thinking, plotting, planning, when all I'd ever had to do was ask.

_So easy._

I'm such a tool.

--

We only had an hour, but we made the most of it. Hurried, cramped backseat sex had never really been our thing, but combined with just-engaged, ten-days-missing-you longing, it proved pretty passionate. "I love you, I love you, I love you so much," she gasped as she came; and her raw husky voice, the sharp dig of the diamond into my back, her teeth sunk into my shoulder, was so intense I couldn't hold back. She pulled on my hair and turned my face to hers as I let go, her mouth hot and open on mine as I groaned into hers like some kind of wounded animal.

"Fuck," I panted, dropping my forehead to her shoulder.

She clutched me tighter, burying her face into my neck. "Fuck," she agreed quietly, and I chuckled a little in spite of myself. She drew back a little to grin at me and pressed her sweaty forehead against mine. "Jim," she breathed, a soft contented sound, barely audible.

"I've missed you," I murmured.

"Really? I couldn't tell," she teased. She pressed her lips to my cheekbone, trailed little kisses all over my face. "We should meet up for lunch more often."

I smiled. "That...is an excellent idea."

Pam pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing her eyes as she nestled in under my chin and tightened her arms around me. For the space of long minutes we just lay there together, wrapped around each other, breathing quietly and listening to the rain.

I have never, not in my entire life, felt as happy, as full, as I did then. All the best moments of my life have been with her, and now she'll be with me for all of the ones to come.

My watch was ticking noisily in my ear, though, reminding me of responsibilities and commitments and the whole unwelcome outside world that needed us to be other places very soon, and I sighed and opened my eyes, forcing myself to pull away. "I have to go back. And so do you."

She closed her eyes and shook her head in an exaggerated pout. "Don't wanna."

"You must." I kissed her forehead and reluctantly pulled back another few inches. "Go learn. I still owe you lunch… what if we make it dinner?"

Her eyes gleamed. "That… is an excellent idea," she mimicked, sliding off me.

I lifted an eyebrow at her, reaching down for my pants. "Mocking me, Beesly?"

"Always," she said happily, wiggling back into her panties. "Will you still call me Beesly when we're married?"

"If you want."

"Pam Halpert," she said to the roof, and then again, softer, "Pam Halpert." She looked at me. "I like it," she said decisively.

"I think you should go for the hyphen. Pamela Morgan Beesly-Halpert. Sounds very upper crust, don't you think?" I shoved my shirttails into my pants and grinned when she reached over to buckle my belt for me with a naughty glimmer in her eyes. "Umm…"

She pressed a kiss to my jaw and stroked the back of her hand very lightly over my fly. "Hold that thought, Halpert. I'll be back here in…" She glanced at her watch. "Class out at six-twenty, pack a bag, on the road by seven…say, nine-thirty? Will you wait up for me?" she teased.

I pretended to think about it. "I dunno, Pam. It's a school night."

"I don't have class till twelve-thirty. That gives us _all night_ and if you go in an hour late tomorrow…" She lifted one shoulder and gave me a saucy smile.

"That…is an excellent idea." I reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear; her ponytail was coming loose. "It's a lot of driving, though. I could come to you…pretty sure there won't be a game if this rain keeps up. Besides, I'm already such a lousy uncle," I shrugged, smiled.

Her face fell a little. "Stop it, you're a _great_ uncle. I'm sorry I said that. I was just…missing you."

_Missing me. _My heart swelled at the thought. "Point being, the rain," I gestured at the rain-streaked windows.

"Yeah, but you'd have to leave at like five-thirty in the morning. I won't have to go till…nine." She kissed me. "Just say okay."

I pulled her back to kiss her again. "Okay."

"I expect dinner." She struggled into her coat, no easy task in the cramped quarters. "Whose idea was the car?"

"Yours."

She snapped her fingers, smiling mischievously. "Oh, right."

I love this woman.


End file.
